


Candle in the Wind

by intersstellar



Series: Candle in the Wind Series [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson Fluff, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson-centric, Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Tartarus (Percy Jackson), Post-The Heroes of Olympus, Romantic Fluff, Sword Fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21564901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intersstellar/pseuds/intersstellar
Summary: Annabeth left Tartarus with Percy long ago, but it wasn't ready to let go of her just yet. Plagued with a curse from a patient enemy, they must find a cure before it takes her back for good.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Nico di Angelo & Percy Jackson
Series: Candle in the Wind Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858573
Comments: 31
Kudos: 111





	1. In the Dark

As the sun hit Annabeth’s hair, it lit up like a flame. 

They sat on the rocks bordering the beach at Camp, watching the sunset. Percy looked more at Annabeth than he did the changing sky—her face was alight with the soft pink colour of the clouds, and she looked ahead intently, her eyes almost glowing. It took his breath away. 

She caught his eye, smiling slightly. Percy’s heart flipped in his chest. “What are you looking at?” she asked, playfulness dancing on her lips. She leaned forward and kissed him, lightly and softly. 

He could have melted. A rain of sparks came through every spot her lips touched his. She wrapped an arm around his neck, and warmth flooded through him into his chest, so intense he couldn’t breathe. 

She pulled away. He frowned, the feeling retreating as her fingers did. “There’s capture the flag tonight,” she said, almost coolly, “and we’re playing. Remember?” 

A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “You’re really teasing me like that?” 

She grinned, then kissed his nose. “Let’s go,” she said, standing. 

Annabeth walked away, her light hair glinting in the muddy gloom. Like the light of a candle. He’d follow it anywhere. 

* * *

The sky was almost dark when all the campers assembled at the edge of the forest. They strapped on armour and chattered amongst themselves. Annabeth had joined cabin six, and was talking with their counsellor. Her and Percy had decided to pass on the role of counsellor, since they were both finishing school. The younger campers watched her with awe, listening intently to their conversation. 

Chiron blew his horn, and all eyes turned to him. He briefed them on the rules, just like he did every week. “You can run anywhere in the forest,” he finished. “Any maiming will result in grave consequences.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” an Ares camper called from the crowd. “But who gets Percy and Annabeth?” 

Chiron looked to Percy. “They could be on the same team as cabin six,” he suggested. 

The crowd erupted in a chorus of _boo’s_. “We’ll never win!” shouted a little boy in the front. His cabin mates elbowed him. 

“It’s settled,” yelled the same Ares camper as before. “We get Percy. Athena and their alliances get Annabeth.” 

They looked to Chiron, waiting. Chiron glanced to Percy, then Annabeth. “Is that alright?” 

Percy felt a smile grow on his face. “Yeah, sounds great. Right, Annabeth?” 

Her smile was white in the dark. “You’re on.” 

Percy moved over to his team’s side as cabin six and all its alliances walked into the forest. 

“Okay, gather up,” he called, and they all huddled forward. “We hide our flag at the very end of the creek. He scanned the campers. There was a boy, maybe eleven or twelve, whose armour was put on immaculately. “You,” Percy said, pressing the flag into his hand. “You’re in charge of putting the flag somewhere good. Somewhere they won't expect." He picked four more kids and told them to guard the flag. “If you need backup, throw your sword really hard into the water. If I’m anywhere nearby, I’ll feel it. If I don’t show up, knock on a tree and ask a dryad to get someone from your team. They like me.” He winced. “Sort of. I’ll head up the creek to try to find the flag.” 

The counsellors of each other cabin took turns telling the group the rest of their instructions. When they were set, they looked to Percy. “Okay,” he said, straightening. “Let’s go.” 

The group scattered into the forest. Percy found the start of Zephyros creek and walked along it, ankle-deep in the clear water. 

He kept walking, sword out and extended. Apart from the soft glow of the celestial bronze, he couldn’t see very far. The forest was dead quiet. 

With the water giving him a boost, he was on high alert, but no one came at him. From the creekbed he spotted the remains of the Myrmekes’ den, a colony of giant, poisonous ants. That meant he was at least halfway up the forest, and still nothing. He walked farther. 

A rustle behind him made him stop, chills skittering up his spine. Careful not to splash the water, he edged forward, but another rustle stopped him. He squinted into the darkness behind him. 

A body slammed full force into him, tackling him to the ground. His head hit the pebbles at the bottom of the creek, dizzying him for a second before the water cleared his head. He pushed his hips up on the balls of his feet and flipped the person over, coming out on top, but his sword was on the ground five feet away. 

His assailant spit mud. His blond hair, though dirty, glinted in the moonlight. “Goddamnit, Percy.” 

A smile tugged Percy’s mouth. “Good to see you, Malcolm.” 

The child of Athena gave Percy a grin before he threw an arm around Percy’s neck and threw him to the side, leaving him sputtering in the water. By the time Percy wiped the mud from his eyes, Malcolm was gone into the trees. 

Percy stood, picking up his sword from the ground. He left the creek and started after Malcolm. 

He pushed the bushes aside, almost tripping over roots in the dark. Trees and plants crackled with movement up ahead, and low voices sounded in the distance. None close. 

He crept into the clearing of Zeus’ fist, on guard and ready for an attack. 

Nothing came at him. The clearing was empty. 

A branch cracked behind him. Percy spun, pointing the tip of his sword under Malcolm Pace’s chin. Malcolm stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Shouts broke out from over his shoulder, from the creek behind him. 

Percy’s eyes widened. “Sorry, Malcolm,” he said. Before the boy could react, he swung his fist forward knocked Malcolm on the head with the butt of his sword, then ran for the creek. Multiple sets of footsteps crashed through the bush, chasing after him. 

A voice yelled, “Don’t let him get to the creek!” 

Annabeth. He sprinted faster until he was pushed to the ground by another blond Athena camper. He rolled to his feet and kept running. 

He broke through the trees, at the bank of the creek. Annabeth was running up the other side—his team’s side. He ran to meet her as she started wading across the water. 

Their swords met as they both reached the center of the creek. He struck, but she parried his sword away. Campers gathered around the creek bed, ready to watch a fight. 

They sure gave them something to watch. Percy dodged every swing of her sword, jabbing and slicing at her feet. She jumped and parried, trying to disarm him. They waded in circles around each other, almost in harmony—they knew each other as well as they knew themselves. 

Their fight was barely a back-and-forth. He and Annabeth fought in a frenzy, a wild whirlwind, where every opening was a chance, and every move counted. It tested them both to the height of their ability, and every skill and trick they knew kicked into place. With Annabeth was when Percy was his best, his sharpest. And when he learned what her best was, too. 

They fought on, kicking the water up in a spray. Annabeth started to falter, and Percy slowed with her. She took a second to straighten again, so Percy slowed and gently tapped the top of her head with the flat of his sword, teasing her. She looked up at him and smiled, but her eyes were cloudy. Before he could think more on it, she leapt forward and jabbed, and he was thrown into the battle again. 

She stumbled, her sword dipping dangerously low to the ground. Percy stopped in his tracks, cold washing through him. His neck stiffened. Something was very wrong. He touched her blade with his and pushed it aside, stepping forward. “Annabeth—“ 

She looked up at him, and her face spasmed. She dropped her sword into the water and cried out, her face filling with pain. Percy let go of his sword and leapt forward. She crumpled. 

Annabeth hit the water, body limp. 


	2. A Foul Breeze (II)

Blood roared in Percy’s ears. 

Annabeth was limp in his arms, sitting atop Chiron’s back. He cantered across the field to the Big House infirmary, and Percy clutched Annabeth tight to keep her from jostling around. He could feel her breath under his arm, a small comfort. 

Her hair was wet on his face, but he didn’t feel it. Thoughts poured through his head, each faster than the other. They hadn’t found any blood on her, no tears in her clothes. Had he pushed her too hard? Had she hit her head somehow? A growing feeling in his stomach was telling him it was all his fault, and he couldn’t deny it. 

Chiron entered the tall back door of the infirmary, kneeling beside a cot so Percy could gently slide Annabeth off his back. When they had both dismounted, Chiron hurried to the open shelves on the other side, picking jars of herbs and nectar infusions. 

Percy couldn't tear his eyes from Annabeth. Her face was streaked with mud, her clothes soaking. He softly rubbed her cheek with his thumb, wiping off some of the dirt. 

Chiron returned with an armful of jars and set them down on the bedtable. Percy got up and stumbled aside, watching Chiron kneel again beside the bed and begin mixing and feeding Annabeth concoctions. 

Suddenly restless, Percy rubbed his feet together and looked outside the window. Campers were running around and yelling to each other. Will Solace, probably the one being yelled to the most, was running at full sprint towards the infirmary. There was a red bandana tied around his forearm and leaves flying out of his hair. 

Percy walked to the door to meet him. In came Will, who spared Percy a polite glance before making a beeline for Annabeth’s cot. 

Percy looked at the floorboards, feeling crashing down on him. The sounds outside became murky. Chiron appeared in front of him and said something, but by the time the meaning of the words trickled into Percy’s mind, he was already out the door. Chiron had gone to get his wheelchair. 

He was only aware that Will Solace had stood and moved away from Annabeth when he stood in front of Percy. He said something, trying to meet Percy’s eyes. 

The words finally registered. “Are you okay?” 

Percy’s couldn’t make his mouth move, let alone get the words out through the lump in his throat. He nodded, looking at Will’s lips, his ears, his nose, but not quite at his eyes. 

Will’s eyes snapped back to Annabeth, and Percy’s followed. She was stirring, her eyes blinking open. They rushed to her side, and Percy let Will ask her, “How are you feeling? Are you okay?” 

She blinked, eyes clear. She looked at Percy, frowning. “Yeah, actually. I feel fine.” 

“What happened?” Will asked. 

She frowned deeper. “Percy... We were fighting. In the creek. And I was fine, until I started to get tired, and—” 

The floorboards creaked as Chiron entered, locking beside Will. 

“I started to get tired,” Annabeth continued. “And...” She rubbed her chest. “Then there was just pain, in my chest and in my feet. In my shins. Like I’d fallen from too high. It was... heavy. I felt like gravity had doubled down on me, but Percy was fine.” 

Percy crouched down on the floor next to her and slid his fingers through hers. She flashed him a small smile. 

“Well,” Chiron said, “it seems like a spell of sorts. I have given you all the appropriate herbs I have. It shouldn’t be a problem anymore.” 

Annabeth sighed. “Thank you, Chiron.” 

Will put his hands on his hips, seemingly satisfied. Chiron turned around and crossed the room. Will walked to the door, and was almost out when Annabeth’s hand tightened on Percy’s. 

She gasped for breath, squeezing his hand tighter. Pins and needles tingled in his fingers and up his arms. “Chiron!” Percy called, his voice breaking. 

Her face was taut with pain, her eyes tightly shut. Her breaths were short and uneven. Annabeth let out a small whimper, and it was almost a relief when she went limp again. Chiron raced back towards them. 

“Nectar, Will,” Chiron said, firmly but not loudly. He muttered, “I don’t understand. Any spell would be abolished by now.” 

Will tipped her head back and poured a steady trickle of nectar into Annabeth’s mouth. They waited in silence, tension thick in the air. Worry pulled at his stomach. 

It had been five minutes when Annabeth’s eyes opened, cloudier this time. They cleared, and she looked straight to Chiron. “You said it wouldn’t happen again.” 

“I thought it wouldn’t,” he said darkly. “But it seems the magic binding this spell is far more powerful than anything I’ve encountered. There can only be one person who created something as advanced as this.” Annabeth cast Percy a glance. “The goddess of magic herself,” Chiron said. “Hecate.” 

“But why would Hecate want to curse her?” Percy asked, finding his voice finally worked. 

“Hecate is known for having no affiliations but herself. She often casts incantations on behalf of others who please her.” 

Will crossed his arms. “So someone hired her,” he concluded, his voice soft. 

Annabeth’s hand tightened on Percy’s again, and he braced, waiting for another spell. But she only stared ahead, wearing an expression that meant a thought was brewing in her head. 

“Perhaps,” Chiron said carefully. 

“How do we stop it?” Will asked. 

“The only way,” Chiron said, “would be to speak to the goddess herself. Hecate does not belong to the council of Olympus. The only place she is guaranteed to appear is her temple, the only one dedicated to her in the entire world.” 

“I’m assuming it’s not next door,” Percy said dryly. 

Chiron either didn’t pick up on his tone or ignored it. “No. The temple is in the city Lagina, in what is now modern-day Turkey.” 

Approaching footsteps interrupted Percy’s train of thought. A camper whose hair was thick and brown with mud rushed into the infirmary. “Chiron,” the boy panted. “We need you in the forest.” 

“I’ll be back,” Chiron told them, then followed the camper out. 

Annabeth patted the spot on the bed beside her, and Percy rose and sat there. Will made himself busy collecting the jars and bowls from the bedside table, taking them over to the sink. 

“So,” Percy said slowly, trying to read Annabeth’s expression. 

“So.” Her eyes were on her hands, twisting the hem of her shirt. 

“Turkey.” 

“Turkey,” she replied, slightly absently. 

“Annabeth?” She raised her eyes to his. “How the fuck are we supposed to get to Turkey?” 

A smile grew on her face, and she burst out a laugh. “I don’t know, Percy. I don’t know. Take a plane,” she suggested, a playful light filling her eyes. Percy relaxed at the sight of it. 

“I’d be blasted out of the sky,” he said, leaning forward. “You know that.” 

She tilted her head up, her lips brushing his nose. “Do I?” 

Will dropped his bowls into the sink, and they both startled. The storminess returned to Annabeth’s eyes. 

“Hey,” Percy said, sliding his legs onto the bed and settling himself beside her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she lay her head on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her muddy, damp hair. “It’s okay, okay? We’ll find a way. We will.” He paused. “I’ll swim over there if I have to.” 

Her shoulders shook with her laugh. 

An idea hit him, and he straightened, suddenly. 

“What?” Annabeth asked, looking at him. “What is it?” 

“A horse,” Percy said, standing. “A beautiful, vulgar sailor horse. I know how we’re getting to Turkey.” 

He knew exactly who to call. 


	3. Only Embers (III)

Percy walked to the sink, grabbing one of the bowls Will had been washing a few minutes earlier before his cabinmates called him out. He set it on the floor opposite the bunk. He raised his hand, feeling a small tug in his core as he watched the water turn to mist.

The bed creaked as Annabeth rose, touching his shoulder and handing him a drachma. He threw it into the mist. “Oh Iris, goddess of the rainbow, please accept my offering. Show me Hazel Levesque, Camp Jupiter.” 

The mist shimmered and produced an image. Hazel was reading a book in soft candlelight, wrapped tightly in thin sheets. She must have been on a bunk, because her bed creaked and shook. 

Her eyes shot up from her book as she noticed his message. “Percy!” Her tone was less excited and more embarrassed. “Give me a second.” She swiped her hand through the mist, and the image dissipated.

Her face appeared in the mist a minute later, almost blue in the moonlight. Crickets chirped around her. “It’s the middle of the night, Percy,” she started. 

He shuffled his feet. “I know. I know. Listen. I need your help.” 

Her eyes locked on his face, reading his eyes. Her expression softened. “What’s wrong?” 

Percy explained what had happened, what they planned to do. Hazel listened quietly, her lips pursing. “We need to get to Turkey,” Percy finished. “Fast.” 

He watched it click in her mind. “Arion,” she said. “You want Arion?” 

“Yes,” he said, but he felt guilty saying it. Maybe this was asking too much.

Hazel nodded her head almost immediately. “Sure. I’m needed here, but I will send him over.” 

Percy loosed a breath. “Thank you, Hazel.” 

She smiled fondly and swiped her hand through the call. Percy dropped his hand and the mist parted. He turned to Annabeth. 

She was sitting on the side of the bed, staring at the ground. He sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. He stroked her hair, feeling her sigh against him. He didn’t know what she was thinking about, but the slump of her shoulders made his heart hurt. 

“Tired?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her head. Her hair smelled like earth and smoke, still damp from the creek. She nodded. 

“Let’s go to bed?” She nodded again. 

She pulled away soundlessly and stood, her eyes still stormy and dull. She left the infirmary, not meeting his gaze. 

Percy listened to the sounds of the campers walking to their cabins outside. He should probably get up and take a shower, but fatigue was starting to settle on his shoulders—it was well past dark, after all. He waited, scuffing his feet on the ground. 

Guilt gnawed at his gut. He couldn’t get past the fear that he’d upset Annabeth somehow, maybe by calling Hazel. Maybe she wanted comfort, not a solution. It had been a dumb idea. 

He would find a way to fix this. Annabeth was counting on him. 

And if he didn’t... He shoved the thought out of his mind. He would. The idea that this was out of his hands, that it was something he couldn’t fight for her, filled him with the deepest dread. To watch Annabeth get more and more taken by this curse, to watch her crumble away—it was worse than anything he could have imagined. He couldn’t let that happen. He’d give anything to stop it. 

When Annabeth shuffled back into the infirmary, she was wearing fresh clothes. Her face was clean, and she’d washed her hair. Her eyes were brighter.

He gave her a tentative smile. She smiled back, but it faded quickly. 

She slid onto the bed beside him, nestling beneath his arm. After a moment, her shoulders shuddered. “Percy?” Her voice was shaky. “It’ll be okay, right?” She choked on the last word. 

“Hey, hey,” he whispered. He touched her chin and tilted her face up to his, looking into her grey eyes. They were wet and filled with worry. Despite that, the light that flickered behind them was a small relief. “It’s going to be okay. It is. I promise, okay?” He wiped the tears from her cheek with his thumb, kissing her cheekbone softly. “It’ll be fine. I promise.” 

She dropped her head on his shoulder and he ran his fingers through her hair. Soon, her breathing steadied. She had fallen asleep. 

Tomorrow, he’d find a way to save Annabeth from the curse. Tomorrow, he'd worry about his promise. Tonight, all he had to do was fall asleep. 


	4. Twin Flames, Part 1 (IV)

Percy’s eyes jerked open at the sound of hooves pounding on wood. 

Reality trickled back to him. He was in the infirmary. Annabeth was a weight against his arm, which was now numb. And the hooves... Arion. 

Percy gently slid out from the bed, careful not to jostle Annabeth. He shook out his arm, feeling the blood rush back into it. Annabeth was still fast asleep, something he almost never saw—her sleep was light and fragile, most days, and she woke from any little sound. Hecate’s curse must be taking a toll on her. 

He walked out of the infirmary door and spotted Arion. He must have been knocking against the side of the wall. “Arion,” Percy said. “Thank you for coming.” 

Arion snorted. _Let’s get a move on,_ he said. 

“Give me a minute,” he said, stepping back into the infirmary. 

Annabeth was awake, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “Is he here?” 

“He’s here.” 

They shuffled past one another, leaving to get their things. The two and Arion met on the porch ten minutes later, equipped with backpacks filled with clothes, weapons, and enough bottles of nectar that Percy could feel them sloshing around as he walked. 

The sun was just coming up, so it had to be around 5:00 AM. Annabeth’s hair looked like liquid gold in the soft morning light. The sun hit her face, her skin almost glowing. Her features were still soft with sleep, her lips slightly parted. Despite the solemn air, Percy held back a smile. 

“Arion,” he said, tearing his eyes away, “can you take us both? To Turkey?” 

He winced a little at the horse’s reply. Annabeth asked, “What’d he say?” 

“Without the profanities? Yes, he can.” 

Annabeth mounted first, then Percy after her. 

“Okay, Arion,” Percy murmured. “Lagina, Turkey, please.” 

* * *

The ride was almost four hours of horror. 

Percy was clutching Annabeth. He’d only been able to open his eyes after an hour of travel. They’d been crossing the Atlantic ocean at that point, but when Percy tried to tell their exact coordinates, his senses almost started shooting sparks. They were moving at an unimaginable speed across the water. 

Annabeth seemed fine, as far as Percy could tell. She’d been quiet the entire ride, but he wouldn’t have been able to hear her over the wind anyway. She hadn’t turned around. 

He touched her shoulder. She looked back at him. Her expression was sombre, a frown that meant she was deep in thought. When she met his gaze, her features softened. 

_You okay?_ he mouthed. 

Her face broke into a soft smile. She touched his cheek. Her eyes were tinged with brightness—a fragile hope. Percy’s heart melted at the sight of it. 

The wind ripped at their clothes, their hair, but Percy would have been content to stay that way forever. When she finally turned back around, the spot where her hand had been felt cold and absent, like the chill that slips in when you step too far from a campfire. 

He wanted to say something, to call her again, but before he could, Percy spotted the Greek coast in the distance. Small islands zoomed past them, but trying to focus on them was like trying to focus on a blade of grass from the window of a moving car. 

They neared a large landmass, and Arion began to slow. The faraway silhouettes of islands started to move slower. Arion hit the beach and kept running, as if water and solid land were the same to him. They passed houses and roads in a blur. Annabeth turned to look beside her, and for a second Percy thought she would talk to him, but she snapped her head back forward. 

City gave way to fields and sparse trees, and soon Arion was running over crops and weaving through forests, slowing more and more. Finally, he slowed to a regular horse canter and stopped in front of Greek-looking ruins. 

Annabeth slid off the horse first, shaking out her legs. Percy followed. He felt like his stomach was finally catching up with him. His hips were stiff, and he hoped Annabeth wouldn’t notice that his walk looked an awful lot like a waddle. Arion snorted and took off before they could stop him. 

The two, now alone, surveyed the ruins. 

There wasn’t much there. Broken steps lead to a stage-like expanse of pale rock. Three crumbling pillars circled an arch, still standing. Annabeth picked her way around the ruins and pauses in front of the steps. A shiver swept through Percy. There was something chilling about seeing her there, her cheeks flushed and hair golden, amongst the lifeless white rock. 

She placed a foot on the steps, but before she could shift her weight on them, she doubled over. 

“Annabeth!” 

Percy sprinted towards her. She reached out with one hand, the other clutching her torso. He reached her and pulled her against him. Her fingers squeezed into his arm, her face tight. He counted her quick breaths—one, then two. Three. 

Her knees gave out, then. He caught her against him, but her hand was still tight around his arm. She hadn’t gone limp as she had before. Annabeth took a breath and then stumbled to her feet. Percy slung his backpack off his back and pulled out a bottle of nectar, handing it to her. She took it and gingerly took a sip. 

“Alright?” Percy asked, trying to read her expression. She handed the bottle back to him and he stuffed it in his backpack again. 

She nodded, rubbing her collarbone. Her fingers caught on the beaded necklace around her neck, and she tugged on it. “Yeah. Fine.” 

She seemed to mean it. Percy tested the nearby step with his foot. The stone was chipped and worn, but it held. Percy stepped up to the flat floor of the temple. 

A soft breeze ruffled his hair, smelling of musty earth. Annabeth came up behind him, looking over the stone arch. Percy shivered. “It feels...” 

“Dead,” she finished. “Empty.” 

Percy took his sword out of his pocket. He felt safer with its weight in his hand. 

“Hecate!” Percy called, restlessness pooling in his feet. “Speak.” 

“You think she’s here?” Annabeth asked quietly. 

A powerful wind exploded through the ruin. Percy stumbled back. Mist poured out from the arch in the centre, each pillar around it erupting into flame. The silhouette of a woman appeared in the frame of the arch. Hecate. 

“Oh,” she said, her voice as smooth as wind and as deep as fog, “I’m here.” 


	5. Twin Flames, Part 2 (V)

Hecate smiled, and Percy’s breath quickened. 

Seeing her face, Percy understood why this place was so lifeless. Her eyes were a deep black that stood out against her pale skin. Her hair flowed long and still. She looked like a feature of the landscape, perfectly at home amongst the dull, skeletal trees and bleached rock. Percy raised the tip of his sword. 

“Unafraid, son of Poseidon?” she mused. 

“Of you? I’m not scared at all.” 

Purple fire sparked at her feet. “Why do you call upon me?” 

Annabeth scuffed her feet on the ground, but he didn’t take his eyes off the goddess. “You know why.” 

Her face morphed into the perfect image of curious innocence. “I can’t say I do.” 

Annabeth stepped forward. “You cursed me. We want to know why.” 

“How do you know your curse was my doing?” 

Annabeth’s laugh was dry. “The great sorceress Circe couldn’t even withstand Hermes’ antidote. This could only be your doing. Unless,” she added slyly, “you’re suggesting some _lesser _sorcerer did this.”__

____

Hecate was silent. 

____

“We,” Annabeth repeated, satisfied, “want to know why.” 

____

“A favour,” Hecate said shortly. “for a child of mine. An enemy of yours, I think. They wanted revenge.” A chilling smile spread on her face. “For Tartarus.” 

____

Annabeth blanched, but her words weren't surprised. “Arachne.” 

____

Percy reached out and took her hand. It was cold. 

____

Hecate tilted her chin. “Yes, Arachne. Alas, she offered me something I could not resist.” 

____

“ So you were bought?” Percy taunted. 

____

“You of all people should understand a debt, Perseus Jackson. That, and a price.” 

____

Annabeth let go of Percy’s hand to cross her arms, leaning back on a leg. Her face was a mask of confidence, but her eyes shone with a fear only Percy recognized. “Arachne bought you,” she summed up. “And made you curse me. To do what? Make my body hurt every three hours? Seems kind of simple.” 

____

Percy hid his frown. He knew this act. He'd seen her do it just about a million times. This time, however, it didn't come off as smooth as usual. 

____

Hecate’s mask broke for a second. Her lips curled. “For your painful death, child of Athena. So you could feel every ounce of pain Arachne felt when she plummeted into Tartarus, and then some. You will crumble, slowly, and everything you’ve ever created will crumble with you.” She straightened, her face regaining its cool composure. “When you finally die, your body will leave behind only the smallest portion of ash, so that you cannot be mourned. Like Arachne was not mourned in Tartarus.” 

____

Annabeth blew out a breath. “I suppose there’s nothing we can do to stop this?” 

____

Hecate only pursed her lips. 

____

“There’s nothing you want?” Annabeth pushed. “Nothing two pairs of demigod hands could help you with?” 

____

She considered. “A part of this ruin,” she said, “was taken by looters.” She gestured to a ring of grime on the ground, evenly spaced from the other columns. “It is being held at this address.” She waved her hand, and a small leather bag appeared at Percy’s feet, with a note attached to it. He didn’t pick it up. “Find them and open the pouch. Let them feel the consequences of crossing me. Then, restore the pillar. If you do this, I will consider pity on your petty soul.” 

____

She made to turn around, but Percy called, “Wait.” 

____

Hecate looked over her shoulder, hair rippling. 

____

“How long does Annabeth have?” 

____

Hecate did not smile. “You have until dawn tomorrow to return the pillar. Any more time than that, I can’t promise—not for your task, or the girl.” 

____

Annabeth let out a breath like she’d been punched in the gut. Dread pooled in Percy's stomach. He glanced back at Annabeth, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. 

____

The goddess smiled pitifully, mist circling her head like a macabre crown. “Oh, little humans," she crooned, half-turned to face them. She studied her palm, where a purple flame grew. "How fast you live, how bright you burn. Twin flames.” Mist thickened around them. Hecate raised her arm, holding the flame above her head. When she spoke, her voice came from all directions. “How easy it is to dampen you.” Her voice seemed to whisper in Percy’s ear, though she hadn’t moved. His legs shook. “I can snuff you out in one breath.” 

____

The flame in her hand burst and blinded them for a second. When Percy opened his eyes, the goddess was gone.

____


	6. Sparks Anew (VI)

Percy brushed off his pants. Annabeth was tying her hair back up. 

He hooked the pouch on the ground onto the end of his sword and examined it that way. It didn’t feel particularly heavy, but not empty, either. He swung it towards Annabeth. “What’s the address say?” 

She lept out of the way. “Woah!” she laughed. The pouch started to fall off the end of his sword, and she stuck out a hand to catch it. She squinted at the label, then relaxed, naming the street. 

Percy’s eyebrows shot up. “How’d you read that so fast?” 

She tossed him the pouch. “It’s in Ancient Greek, thank the gods. We’d be here forever if it weren’t.” 

Percy held the bag gingerly. He did not want to know what was inside. 

“Hey,” Annabeth said, frowning at the bag, “did that feel... easy to you?” 

He frowned. “What do you mean?” 

She rubbed her collarbone. “The talk with Hecate. Doesn’t this feel too easy? We’ve fought monsters the size of buses, and now all we have to do is take back some piece of rock from a bunch of mortals. Couldn’t Hecate do that herself?” 

Percy capped his sword. “Well, we’re also delivering whatever’s inside that bag.” She only frowned deeper. “But you know what? I’ll take it. Even if she has some crazy agenda, it’ll still cure the curse.” 

She sighed. “You’re right," she said, but she didn't sound convinced.

They made their way to a break in the forest around them. They could spot the city of Lagina below, yellow in the sunlight. 

Despite the grim task they had to complete and the pressure of the sun slowly sinking, a smile inched its way onto Percy’s face. He turned to Annabeth. “Race you?” 

Her grin was wicked. “You’re on.” 

* * *

They stood in front of a beaten warehouse ten minutes later, panting harder than they had in a long time. Percy sunk to the floor and sat against a tree, panting. Annabeth was leaning over her knees. 

They took a moment to catch their breaths and take in the warehouse in front of them. It looked abandoned—the roof was collapsing, and the door was half-fallen from its hinges. It looked empty inside. Annabeth straightened and put her hands on her hips. “Looks like—” 

She didn’t get a chance to finish. Her words turned into a scream that tore through the silence of the atmosphere. Her knees buckled. Percy caught her, lowering them both to the ground and holding her tight against him. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her breaths laboured. All her muscles were tensed. 

When they loosened, her breaths still rattled. “That was worse,” she gasped. “Way, way worse.” 

Percy rubbed her arms, an attempt at comfort. He hated not being about to do anything. Guilt still tugged at him, though he couldn’t place what exactly was his fault. 

A large creek came from inside the warehouse, and then a figure appeared in front of them, wrapped in darkness. An obsidian sword swung at them, and Percy pushed in front of Annabeth and ducked, pulling out his sword. The darkness faltered, fading. “Percy,” said a voice. 

He kept his sword levelled until the gloom faded completely, revealing a boy with sad eyes wearing a black aviator’s jacket. 

“Percy,” Nico di Angelo repeated. 

Percy dropped his sword, stunned. “Nico. What are you doing here?” There was something in the air that made all his hairs stand on end.

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

Annabeth spoke up. She was still sitting on the ground. “We’re here on a quest, of sorts. What are you doing here, Nico?” 

Nico’s expression softened slightly. “I got called because there was some paranormal activity up here. The spirits are... restless.” 

A twinge of annoyance went through Percy. “Do you know if there are looters in this area?” 

He felt Annabeth’s glare on the back of his head. “We,” she said, probably more delicately than he had, “are looking for a stolen piece of the temple to Hecate that’s just over there. We were told it was being kept here in this barn, but it seems empty.” 

Nico winced. “Actually, I think I just scared them off an hour ago. They all ran out. But I know where their bigger base is. Come on.” He waved them on, starting carefully down the hill. 

Percy glanced at Annabeth, reaching out a hand to help her up. She gave him a pointed look and took it, raising herself to her feet. She paused, closing her eyes. “Hold on. Dizzy.” 

He waited a beat until she opened her eyes again, nodding. Then they went to catch up with Nico. 


	7. The Wind (VII)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my friend adricovi for helping me through this chapter, it would not have come out, even late as it is, without you.

They trudged along the side of the hill, following Nico in a stale silence. 

Percy watched the rocks, careful to keep from stepping on them. They were sharp things, jutting out from the ground, their corners jagged. He kept an eye on Annabeth at his side and an eye on his feet, plus an ear out for attackers. 

Or monsters. Percy almost shuddered. He was done fighting monsters. 

Nico’s voice cut through the air. “So,” he said casually, “who roped you two into doing a quest?” 

He’d never seen Nico use that tone before. Anger trickled into his throat, but he swallowed it. 

Annabeth replied, “Oh, Hecate.” She didn’t offer anything more. The group fell into silence. 

“How’s Will?” Annabeth asked mildly. Had they not just seen him? 

“Uh, good.” His eyes stayed deliberately on the ground. “He’s at Camp, now, I think.” 

Percy’s eyes flitted between the two of them, not liking this interaction. 

“Are we almost there?” Percy cut in. 

Nico nodded. “Yeah, just on this street.” 

As they rounded the corner, Annabeth gave him an incredulous look. He only shrugged back. 

Nico faced strictly forward and led them to a dilapidated two-story condo building. “This is it,” he said. “I heard talk about this base when I was following these looters from the temple. It’s apparently where their ‘boss’ likes to hang out.” 

“Great,” Percy said. “Boss sounds great.” 

“Will you come inside with us?” Annabeth asked Nico. 

He nodded. “Yeah. I think there might be a clue for me here too. I’ll follow you guys in.” 

They started towards the door, but Percy hesitated to move. “Annabeth, maybe you—” 

She waved him off. “Don’t even say it. I’m coming.” 

And that was that. 

Annabeth stashed her sword in a bush outside, since exposed weapons wouldn’t exactly match the friendly face they were putting on and it didn’t have a sheath. Nico opted to keep his, insisting there might be rogue spirits. 

“Hey,” Percy said as they were about to enter. He pulled his pen out of his pocket and extended his arm to Annabeth. “Take this.” 

Her surprise silenced her for a moment. “Percy...” She was trying to read his face. “Are you sure?” 

He nodded, taking her hand and pressing the weapon into her palm. When he pulled back, his hands felt empty without its familiar weight. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling. 

Nico opened the door, and in they went. 

* * *

The door opened to a dark staircase that creaked violently as they tiptoed down. 

Annabeth led the way, pen-Riptide clipped on the outside of her pocket and Hecate’s pouch in the side pocket of her backpack. 

At the end of the staircase was a hallway that spread into an open room. Shadows crept along the walls, and soft whispers sounded from various cages and barrels pushed into the corners of the room. A dusty lamp hung from the ceiling, doing little but casting the room on a cold, blue light. A group of people sat playing poker on a crate. One turned to look at Annabeth with disinterest. 

He said something gruffly in what Percy assumed was Turkish. Annabeth looked back at Percy and Nico and then gave the man a helpless look. One of the men, sitting at the back, said in English, “American?” 

She nodded. The three at the table spoke amongst themselves, and Percy caught the word _boss_ in Greek. 

The man at the back stood. “What are you doing here?” he grunted. 

Annabeth shrugged. “The usual. A deal.” 

The man murmured something and dropped his cards into the table, his metal chair scraping on the ground as he stood. He led them to a staircase hidden in a dark corner beside a stack of crates. Annabeth followed him up the spiralling metal stairs without looking back. Percy caught a glimpse of her hand reaching for the pouch in the dark. 

The guard paused. “Leave your weapons here,” he said. Nico set his sword on the ground reluctantly. The man opened the steel door, letting them into the room and then pushing the door closed again. He took up a spot leaning against the wall. 

Percy took stock of the room. It was considerably brighter than the one downstairs—yellow lamps were tucked into pockets of clutter on shelves and bookcases. It was probably meant to look like a cozy space, but it set Percy on edge. A turtle shell on the desk was shaking. There was a box filled with vials of Greek fire, bright red warnings printed on its sides. One of the books on a shelf was on fire, but the flames didn’t spread nor consume the pages. 

The door slammed hard behind them, and a man turned in his chair, like a cartoon villain. “Hello there. You can call me Alastair. How can I help you?” His voice was deep and wiry. 

“Do you know anything about the temple of Hecate?” 

His lips tightened. “Of course.” 

Annabeth looked around the room casually. “We heard there was a little something that went missing from that temple. We also heard,” she looked at him, “that you might know a little something about where it might be.” 

Alastair looked to his lackey. “Kill them,” he said. The words took a second to register in Percy’s mind. 

Annabeth uncapped Riptide. Percy had no sword to reach for, and the pang of it hit him like a punch to the stomach. The burly man at the door didn’t move. His boss began to laugh. 

Percy’s mind clicked and his stomach sank. He’d spoken in Ancient Greek, not English. 

“Hello, demigods,” Alastair cooed. “Hecate sent you?” 

Annabeth brought out Hecate’s pouch, but before she could open it, Nico knocked it out of her hand. 

“No!” he yelled. 

The guard against the wall moved in a flash, holding her from behind and pressing a white towel to her nose. Annabeth crumbled. Riptide clattered to the ground, and Percy snatched it up, pointing it at Alastair. Nico ducked and dragged Annabeth’s limp body into a shadowy corner of the room. Percy kept his eyes on the man in front of him. “Nico,” he said carefully. “Get her out.” 

The guard’s surprised noise told him Nico had shadow-travelled out. 

Alastair raised his hands, a smile plastered on his face. “Now, let’s all calm down now. No harm’s been done.” 

Percy spun and levelled his sword at Alastair’s throat. “Give us what you stole from Hecate’s temple,” he said quietly. 

Alastair’s jaw tightened. “That’s not possible.” 

Percy touched his chin with the blade. “It sure as hell is.” 

“I don’t help Hecate,” Alastair said mildly. 

“I’m sure you can make an exception.” 

The man swallowed. “Hecate took everything from me. I do not help her.” He paused. “You shouldn’t, either. Whatever you’re about to do… she will deceive you.” 

“Who _are_ you?” 

Alastair raised his eyebrows in feigned innocence. “Why don’t we all sit down and I’ll explain?” 

Percy kept his mouth shut and his sword on Alastair’s neck. 

The man frowned. “Sit down,” he said, his lips tense, “or my friend here will make you.” 

Percy lowered his sword, letting the tip dig into the wooden floorboards. Alastair motioned to the seat in front of the wooden desk. 

Percy sat down reluctantly. He could hear every bit of movement in the room, and the hairs on the back of his neck were raised. It donned on him very suddenly that he was without Annabeth and so, so out of his element. 

Alastair toyed with a trinket on his desk. His eyes caught on the hilt of Percy’s sword. “That’s a lovely weapon you have there, half-blood.” 

Percy felt something at his shoulder. He moved it and didn’t feel anything. “Who are you?” he repeated. 

Alastair drew his eyes from the sword to Percy’s face. “My name is Alastair.” 

“Are you a child of Hecate?” Annabeth would know how to disguise the questions, make him slip up and admit something, but the only thing Percy could do was make him mad. So be it. 

“Yes,” Alastair said carefully. “But I have qualms with the goddess nonetheless.” 

Percy leaned back in his chair. “Let me guess—it had something to do with the Titan War.” 

“Something like that, yes. What I mean to say is: Hecate is not a loyal goddess. She will deceive you. She will betray you. I would know.” 

Percy sat up. “I don’t care.” He pointed to the door. “That was my girlfriend. Hecate cursed her. She’ll die if we don’t do exactly what Hecate says. I know you don’t understand, or care, but if you don’t give it to me, I'll just take it myself.” 

Alastair leapt forward from his chair. “I do understand,” he said through gritted teeth. “It was my sister Hecate took. She left to fight in the war. Hecate used her, like a pawn.” 

Percy stood, sword in hand. The back of his head was burning like it did when he was starting to piece something together. “Look.” He dropped his shoulders and looked the man in the eye. “If you don’t help me, it’ll be like your sister’s story all over again. Don’t let Hecate take her from me.” His voice faltered. “Please.” 

Alastair’s lips tightened. “If I don’t take down Hecate, there will be a thousand more stories like yours.” 

Percy’s mind reached for something to say. “You can take it back,” he said before the man could sit back down, “when we’re done. When Hecate’s cured her.” 

Alastair considered. 

“Please,” Percy said. “Don’t let Hecate take her.” 

He pursed his lips, looking past Percy to the guard leaning against the wall. “Take the fragment outside for them,” he said, pointing to a patterned, vaguely pillar-like chunk of rock in a corner of the room. He sat down in his chair. “Goodbye, demigod.” 

Percy followed the guard out and down the stairs silently. A blossom of dread was growing in his stomach. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was supposed to be more to the story. When did they ever have it easy, after all? 

Now outside, the guard dropped the stone on the ground and shut the door behind him without a word. Percy looked around. The street was empty, and the moon was high in the sky. Nico was sitting against the wall, dribbling nectar carefully into Annabeth’s mouth. 

Percy dropped down to the ground. “How is she?” 

Nico closed the lid. “It was probably just a common sedative. We just have to wait.” 

Percy touched her hand. “How do you know?” 

“Will.” 

Enough of an answer. Percy settled down on the ground, eyes scanning Annabeth’s face again and again. He blew out a breath, his chest shaking. 

He felt a gaze on him and turned to see Nico looking at him intently. Percy looked away. 

“We need to get moving before dawn,” Percy said, keeping his voice steady. 

Nico’s voice was quiet. “She’ll be okay, you know.” 

Anger trickled into the whirlpool of anxiety in his stomach. He watched the ground, silent. He reached for his bag, rummaging through it so that he had something to do. His hands shook as he pulled out a bottle of nectar and set it on the ground. 

“Percy,” Nico said again, his eyes trailing the bottle of nectar. Percy took another breath, but he couldn’t keep it from rattling. “She’ll be okay,” Nico said, softly but firmly. Percy couldn’t help but notice his words sounded a lot like Will’s. 

Percy dropped the bag, fatigue and emptiness washing through him. A lump gathered in his throat, and his lip trembled. Nico watched him, his eyes soft and patient. 

“I-” His voice broke. He fumbled for words. “Why are you saying this?” 

Nico picked at his sleeve. “I know you don’t really like me right now. It’s true. There was always something that drove us apart. But... I don’t know.” He let out a dry laugh. “I don’t know. I guess I just know exactly what you’re feeling.” 

Grief weighed on his shoulders. “Bianca.” 

Nico’s hands were clenched. “You know I don’t blame you. I’ve told you that. I mean, sure, there’s always a part of me that gets angry when I think about it, but—I don’t blame you. Anymore. And what happened with Hera, and Camp Jupiter... I’m sorry for that, too.” 

Percy looked at him, sighing. “I know. Thanks, Nico.” 

Nico’s gaze seemed to sadden when he met his eyes. “I’ve lost Bianca and my mother. I can’t even think about losing Will. But even if he died, I’d go down to the underworld and find him. I’d make my dad bring him back. You don’t get that.” 

Something in Percy snapped, and all the feeling rushed to his head at once. His eyes burned. One tear dripped down his face. Others quickly followed, hot and rushed like summer wind. He wiped them away quickly, embarrassed that Nico was seeing this, but the boy had turned away, watching the sky. 

Percy rubbed the tears away and dropped his head into his hands. He took a wobbly breath. “How do you know?” he asked, his voice cracking. 

Nico glanced at him, his eyebrows twitching together. 

Percy met his eyes. “How do you know? That she’ll be okay.” 

Nico gave him a faint smile, barely a turn of his lips. “I don’t. But how could it not be?” 

It was less of a comfort than he expected. “Can you feel anything? Around her? The way you can feel it when someone dies.” 

Nico shook his head. “I can’t feel anything, Percy.” 

He was silent, a feeling working itself up in him. Words were hard to speak out loud, but he had stopped trembling. “Nico? Promise me something.” 

Nico’s expression was pained. “Percy, I know what you’re going to ask. I can’t bring—” 

“Find her for me.” 

The night was quiet, and all that sounded was Nico’s rush of breath. “What?” 

“Find her for me,” Percy said again. “If—” He could barely think about it. “If it all goes wrong. Promise me you’ll find her spirit. You won’t let it crumble, or get lost. Find it, and tell her to wait for me. Give her—give her the best place to wait. Promise me you’ll find her.” 

Nico’s reply was quiet. “I will.” 

“Thank you.” 

They fell back into silence, a feeling of finality in the air. Nico watched the clouds roam across the sky. Percy stared at Annabeth’s sleeping form, looking for every rise of her chest. 


	8. Flickering Out (VIII)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: vomiting, blood, injury.

The moon had travelled three-quarters way down its path across the sky by the time Annabeth came to. 

She groaned, and Percy pushed himself off the wall. “Annabeth.” 

She touched her forehead, opening an eye to look at him. 

A smile started on her mouth, but it disappeared behind a grimace as laid her head back on the brick wall. “Where’s Nico?” 

Percy sat on his knees and capped his sword. “He shadow-travelled to the ruin. Said he wasn’t strong enough to bring all of us and the pillar.” 

“We got it, then?” 

Percy nodded, touching her hand. It was cold. 

She sighed. “We have to go now, don’t we?” 

He winced. “Yeah. Ready?” 

“Ready.” 

Percy took her hands and pulled her to a sitting position. He wrapped her arm around his shoulders and his around her waist, helping her up as slowly as possible. She clung to him, her eyes squeezed shut. 

She doubled over and dry heaved over the pavement, a soft whimper escaping her mouth as she leaned back against him. 

They started down the street. Annabeth held tight to his neck, her breaths shallow. 

Worry knotted in Percy’s core. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. He wished he could wipe this curse away. 

They walked on, slower by the minute. The pavement was choppy and full of potholes, impossible to see in the dark. Annabeth’s feet dragged on the asphalt. 

“Tell me what happened with the boss.” She was breathing hard. 

They had reached the end of the road. The ruins were barely in sight, white against the backdrop of night and infinitely far away. “He told me he wanted to stop Hecate,” Percy said as they picked their way through the grass. He could barely see a foot in front of him. “His sister joined the Titan War. He... wanted revenge or something. I don’t know, it didn’t add up. Something seemed off.” 

“Then he just gave you the pillar?” 

“I told him he could just take it back later. And I asked him if he wanted another story like his sister’s.” 

Annabeth opened her mouth to speak but tripped, hissing. Percy lowered her to the ground, bringing out his sword for light. She yanked her pant leg up. The scars that wrapped around it burned an angry red, raised as if they were brand new. 

“It’s getting worse,” Percy said softly. Annabeth reached out a hand and he helped her to her feet, bringing her close again. 

They continued, slower, up the gradual slope of the hill. “Tell me more,” Annabeth said, her breaths rattling. 

Percy stepped over a branch. “His name was Alastair. He was a child of Hecate. When I told him I needed the pillar to save you... he gave it up right away. It seemed—” 

“—Too easy,” she finished. 

Percy nodded. “Yeah. Exactly. And it doesn’t explain why Nico sensed spirit activity.” 

They were almost halfway there. “Maybe he tried to summon her? His sister?” 

It didn’t feel true. “Maybe.” 

They fell into silence, hobbling up the hill and trying not to trip over rocks. Annabeth leaned more and more on him, her face pale. “When we were in there, Nico knocked Hecate’s bag out of my hand. Why?” 

Percy hesitated. “He... he said it would kill everyone in the room. Including us.” 

Annabeth was silent, and he couldn’t see her expression in the dark. 

A growing feeling in his gut told him this wasn’t going to work. When they crested this hill, it’d all go to hell. But... he’d go to hell with her. 

He already had. And he was not about to let it take her back. 

Annabeth's legs seemed to give out, then. 

“Woah, hey—” Percy tried to catch her, but she landed hard on the grass. “Annabeth.” 

Her eyebrows were drawn together, her eyes glossed over with pain. He touched her cheek, his breath quickening. “Annabeth...” Her chest rose and fell quickly, unevenly. Her eyelids drooped. “Annabeth, stay with me. Just a little farther.” 

She shook her head, a frail movement. “Percy...” 

He tapped his knees, looking around. “Here,” he said. “Get on my back.” 

He helped lift her to her feet, then draped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist piggyback-style. 

Then they were off again, up and up the hill. The ruins got slowly closer. 

His mouth was dry. Annabeth’s head rested on his shoulder, her hair tickling his neck. Hecate’s words played again and again in his mind. If he let this curse take her, Annabeth would die worthless. Nothing. She’d be wiped away. 

He’d asked Nico to find her if it all went wrong, but the truth was he didn’t know if she’d even be in the Underworld. If what Hecate said came true, she’d be gone. Forever. 

His chest hurt, and not because of the walk. 

Percy crested the hill, spotting Nico standing in the ruin. He called out, and Nico came running. 

“How is she?” he said, already helping Percy lower her to the ground. “Is she awake?” Percy shook his head. “Shit. Shit. Here, let’s take her over there.” 

They lifted her to the ruin’s flat expanse of rock. As they placed her on the ground, Annabeth stirred. Her eyes opened, just barely. “Nico,” she whispered. She reached for Percy’s hand, squeezing it weakly. 

Nico stood. “Call her.” 

Percy drew Riptide. He stood in the center of the ruin, facing the arch. “Hecate!” 

Purple flames erupted from the rock, making a ring ar0und the center. Hecate, cloaked in black and cool as mist, stepped through the arch. Her cold eyes met his. “Did you do what I asked, demigod? 

“It’s done.” 

She glanced to Nico, standing behind them. “And where is it?” 

“The pillar? Right—” He turned, a chill sweeping through him. His stomach dropped. “It’s gone.” 

Hecate feigned curiosity. “If you don’t uphold your end of the bargain, half-blood, I’m afraid I cannot uphold mine.” 

Rage filled his head, clogged his throat. “You set us up.” 

Hecate looked at him with disinterest. “I did no such thing. Though I did receive word that you did not fulfill the first part of our deal either. I guess that leaves you with nothing.” 

“Because it was a trap! You just wanted to kill us,” he spat. His breaths came in fast, his thoughts faster. It donned on him all at once. “None of this was real,” he breathed, like an accusation. “None of it. That’s why it wasn’t adding up. It was all—the Mist.” 

Hecate didn’t deny it. She threw up a hand, and the surrounding forest was plunged into darkness, leaving only Annabeth, laying on the stone, and Percy, sword drawn. 

“You sent us running around on your bullshit quest.” Anger coursed through him like a wave. “You were never going to save her.” His voice broke. “You—you wasted the time she had left. You took her from me.” 

Hecate’s face was a mask of cold. “This is of her own doing. I am merely fulfilling a wish.” She began to step back through the arch. 

He tensed. She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t. “What about Athena?” he jabbed, a little desperately. “You’re picking a fight with her, too.” 

“Athena doesn’t fight her children’s battles,” Hecate said dismissively. “If you have nothing to offer me, our bargain is over.” 

Percy’s chest felt like it was cracked open, wide and exposed. “Me,” he said. “Take me. Instead of her.” 

Hecate smiled, then. “The deal was her life, not yours. Goodbye, demigod.” 

The darkness lifted. Both the goddess and Nico were gone. 

Percy dropped his sword. He ran to Annabeth, kneeling beside her. Her eyes were open, barely focused on his face. He lifted her onto his lap, cupping her face with his hand. Hot tears streamed down his face. 

Annabeth smiled slightly. “So it was all a trick, huh?” Her words were slow. 

Percy couldn’t answer. It was over. “Annabeth,” he sobbed. 

She raised a hand and touched his face. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “It’s not your fault.” Her eyelids began to close, her breaths slowed. Her smile spread. She wiped his tears with her thumb, eyes closing. 

They lay that way for an eternity, Percy clinging to every spare moment. Memories bloomed in his mind, vivid and quick as a wildfire, one catching on the other. 

Annabeth, who wanted to be the greatest architect in the world. Annabeth, who wanted to go to New Rome with him. Who wanted to seize the world and hold it in her hands, mould it into something beautiful and lasting. Annabeth, who’d flipped his life upside down and filled it with light. 

Whose only fear was that she would be forgotten. 

She didn’t deserve to crumble away. To vanish, like a candle in the wind. 

She couldn’t end like this. 

Percy stroked her hair gently. Her breaths came sparsely, slow and trembling like a flame. 

He wouldn’t let the gods take her. Not like they took so many. Not her. 

Percy stood on shaky knees. Picked up his sword. 

Tears were fresh on his face, but he didn’t wipe them away. “Hecate!” he called, dragging his blade on the lifeless stone. The sound of it ricocheted off the pillars, a sharp and dry sound. “Hecate!” 

Dark mist spilled from the arch, pooling and dripping off the ruin. Low fires ignited on the ground, skittering along the stone. A silhouette of a woman appeared in the arch. 

It disappeared. 

A chill crept up Percy’s spine. On instinct, he turned, sword slashing behind him. The blade caught on fabric, but the figure was gone again. 

Percy caught a glimpse of white in the corner of his eye. He whirled towards it, faster, but his blade sliced through thin air. 

Black mist surrounded the ruin. Hecate, invisible, spoke from all angles. “You think you can fight me, mortal?” 

Suddenly there were a million Hecate’s, looming in from every angle. It was meant to confuse him, but Percy didn’t care. He pushed forward and slashed through each one, watching them all turn to dust. He cut in wide arcs, taking the fake Hecate’s by the tens. They appeared again behind him, reaching and touching his clothes, pulling his hair. He kept swinging. “Show yourself,” he screamed, voice cracking. 

Faster and faster, until his sword caught. Quickly, he swung his sword down, ripping through something—cloth or skin, he didn’t know. 

Whatever he hit gave out, and he stumbled. The Hecate’s faded. Hecate, the real one, stood in the arch, holding her wrist. Golden ichor dripped down her arm. She looked up at him and met his eyes. Her face changed form rapidly—from one person he loved to the next. His friends. His mom. 

Percy ran at her. Monsters materialized and leapt at him, their claws scraping his skin but leaving no mark. He ran, aiming at that changing face 

At the last second, he closed his eyes. He knew what her face would morph into next. Annabeth, smiling and whole. He didn’t have to open is eyes to see it so vividly. 

Heart lurching into his throat, he lunged, sinking the blade into Hecate’s stomach. 

The goddess stared at him in shock. He pulled the sword out. 

The mist surrounding the ruin dissipated, revealing the morning sun, golden as the blood on his blade. Hecate pressed a hand to her stomach. 

“Cure her,” Percy said, his voice rough and quiet. 

Hecate’s lip curled. “You can’t kill me,” she snarled. 

Percy pointed his sword at her throat. Ichor dripped onto the ground. 

Her expression faltered. “It is done,” she spat. “Do not call me again.” 

She began to glow, and Percy shielded his eyes at the last second, feeling the heat of it on his face. The light subsided, and the cold of dawn set in again. Hecate was gone. 

Percy dropped to his knees in the pool of gold, cold as a night with no fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! To everyone who took the time to leave a comment, or even just a kudos: you're awesome. Thank you!


	9. Epilogue

The wind whistled as Nico tore his way up the hill, breathing hard. The dark cloud over the temple has dissipated, and with Percy involved, he wasn’t sure that was all a good thing. 

Nico dragged his feet up the bulgy dirt, chest heaving. His breaths were loud in his chest, a tremor in his bones. The white of the temple loomed up ahead, stark against the ground but as dead as the earth. The clearing was cold as he entered it. With an aching pull, he climbed the side of the stone, heaving himself onto the raised floor. 

Liquid gold stained the pallid rock, dousing the pillars with spray and dripping into the cracks in the stone. Percy was kneeling in a pool of it, his head falling over his knees, his sword stuck stubbornly in his hand. Annabeth was gone, the spot where she lay marked solely with a smear of red grime. 

Percy fell, then, his side hitting the floor first. Nico rushed to him. Gold—ichor, he realized now—seeped into his pants as he knelt. He slid a hand under Percy’s arms and scanned the temple. The light of dawn made long shadows on the ground. He took a breath and then lifted, praying Percy was conscious enough to help. He did, barely, pushing on the ground with clumsy feet, until Nico aimed for a pillar cast in shadow and tumbled into the darkness. 

Spirits pulled at him, tortured souls trapped in Lagina. Nico speared forward, the image in his mind clear, and ignored their cries. The shades retreated, and the two hung suspended in air for a second, in darkness so absolute the sun blinded him when they finally dropped onto Camp Half-Blood ground. 

Campers turned to look as Nico dropped Percy onto the grass. Their eyes widened. 

“I’ll get Will,” one said. Another ran to get Chiron. When the son of Apollo appeared with a stretcher, he looked him in the eye. “I need to find Annabeth.” 

He melted into the shadows, following the din of the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sequel is in the works! I just couldn't drop this idea. First chapter coming in just a minute.


End file.
